Mishap on a Mission (Working title)
by ladypearlofarguile
Summary: Missions don't always go as planned, and this one is no exception. Sarkney, if you squint. May be more later.


**DISCLAIMER: I IN NO WAY RECEIVED ANY PROFIT FROM THIS, ALL CHARACTERS ARE THE PROPERTY OF ABC'S ALIAS. I ONLY PLAYED WITH EM. **

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"Sydney! Sydney! Security has been alerted, abort the mission!" came Jack's voice over the com, sounding a mixture between anger and worry. Anger that his daughter had broken protocol, but worry about the inevitable consequences this would bring and the danger she was now in. Sydney looked up nervously from the safe as the sound of heavy boots and angry voices came closer.

The safe had been wired with various security measures, and all she had easily disabled with the experience that had come from a life full of safe cracking. However, the intel had failed to bring to their attention the existence of a small safety feature. Although it pained her to admit it, Sydney had tripped it with the clumsiness of a rookie.

The alarm sounded through the building, angry honking coming over each and every one of the coms. There was no one in the building that was not now aware that there was an intruder in the building, who must be stopped at all costs.

"It's fine." Sydney panted, "I've almost got it." She winced as it seemed that Jack, Kendell, and Michael all seemed to protest at the same time, giving the same order in various ways. Ignoring this tirade of human voices, she focused her energy on the matter at hand.

With a final wrench, she heard a satisfying click as the stubborn strong box finally gave way, opening with a loud whine. As if it was giving in, but still fighting her with what little strength it had left. A grin grew on her face, as her eyes set upon the prize, an old wooden box carved lovingly from an olive tree. The deep brown still had areas of green, growing into one another as if they had no idea that the tree they were from no longer existed in the form that they remembered. A brass lock hung from the lid to the tray, green with age and matching the wood it held together.

She stood up, ready to place it into a bag by her side, when a soft footstep betrayed the presence of another person. She took a deep breath, and with a sudden motion whipped out a pistol and pointed it in the direction of the sound. Her eyes were greeted by the familiar messy blonde hair of a person she least wanted to see, especially here and now. Sark.

He held an automatic in his hand, looking as if he had merely startled a bird from his nest. Cocking his head he gazed at her with large blue eyes. Eyes that on perhaps another person would look like the innocent eyes of a newborn baby, but on him were the cold calculating eyes of a hitman, a person that would not hesitate to kill her. He was wearing a black field suit, complete with helmet and boots to match. It oddly fitted him, as if the darkness of his clothes matched his killer nature. The corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if attempting a bemused smile.

"Well, well Sydney. Fancy meeting you here," He said quietly, Inside she shuddered as if the words were icicles trickling with their frosty cold down her back, "It seems you and I are destined to keep crossing paths."

"Trust me," She said with a snarl, "the pleasure isn't mine."

He shrugged, caring little for what she said and growing slightly concerned about the alarm and impending danger, "No matter." He then looked at her with those cold eyes once more and said in an equally cold voice, "I need the box. Hand it over."

"And if I don't?" She questioned.

He gave an empty smile, "Then I'll have no choice but to kill you. A real pity, to be sure, as I always enjoy our little romps together. Toss your gun please."

She scoffed and did as she was bade. The man was a psychopath, and she couldn't afford to push him. If she did, there'd be little chance to get the box with her dead. She had to think quickly, Sark was in no mood to be trifled with.

"I hate to interrupt whatever you are thinking about," Sark suddenly broke in, "But as they say, time is of the essence. The box?"

"Fine." Sydney sighed, "Shall I slide it over?"

Sark smirked, "If you don't happen to have a pickaxe with you."

It was Sydney's turn to smirk, remembering the little incident, "Pity I don't."

"Right." said Sark, clearly growing tired of games and wanting nothing more than to leave, "Slide it over."

Sydney tightened her lip into a scowl, raising her hands in the air she gave the box a good shove with her foot. The old wooden object slid easily over the smooth floor, stopping just in front of Sark, who quickly swept it up greedily. Keeping the gun pointed at her, he dropped the box into his own sack, and took a few steps backwards.

"A pleasure as always." He said, his eyes almost laughing over the fact that he had gotten one over her.

Sydney smiled sweetly at him as he turned and began to flee. Shedding all appearances of friendliness, she sped after him, and upon reaching him in the hall tackled him to the ground. Hearing him give out an 'oof' upon impact with the ground she turned him over with the intention of striking him. But Sark shot out with a savage blow that struck Sydney square in the face. She fell back, and he pressed forward with the attack. Jumping upwards he kicked her in the stomach, knocking her to her back. Voices barked orders in Russian, and he looked up in alarm as the voices came closer. Leaping to his feet he attempted to leave Sydney where she lay and escape with his prize. Unfortunately for him, Sydney opened her eyes just in time to understand what was happening. She grasped his foot desperately as he passed, and once more he fell heavily to the ground.

Before either could take further action however, six guards poured into the room, shouting and firing their weapons. Both Sark and Sydney leapt up and raced through the military offices. More guards filed in to aid with the search, and Sydney looked wildly about for Sark, but the blonde Englishman had disappeared.

Taking a sharp turn, she fled down a hall. Cursing under her breath for how easily Sark had gotten away from her, and with the box. A crash, followed by yet more harsh voices caused her to gasp. She looked about wildly for a way of escape, and saw none. The hall was a dead end, with only offices on either side. She saw the barrel of a rifle crossing the corner and froze, there was no escape.

A door opened, and she suddenly felt a strong hand grab her shoulder and the other cover her mouth securely as she was pulled into an office. The door was then shut with a click, but she still had no view of her kidnapper. She wrenched herself, turning around to face her attacker, and gave out a smart kick.

A gasp followed by a groan followed, and curiously enough a head covered in unruly blonde hair. It was Sark, holding his stomach and looking unamused.

"Sark!" She gasped in surprise.

"For God's sake shut up!" He hissed, muttering a curse.

The door handle turned from the outside, and both agents held their breath. The door nob met with the click of a lock, forbidding it to turn further. The person outside, seeming satisfied left the office in peace. It was not until several minutes that Sark moved again. Without giving Sydney another look he limped to the door, opening it a crack and looked outside. The sounds had all but ceased, as the guards had frantically taken their search elsewhere.

"Idiots." Sark muttered, "I would have checked the office at least."

"Why didn't they?" Sydney asked.

"It was locked," Sark explained, without glancing at her "And they're too stupid to think that someone might have the brains to break in."

Sydney growled, not knowing what new suspicious play he was at. Whatever it was, Sark was not to be trusted. She had dealt with him enough to know that. "I had the situation under control and you interfered!"

Sark gave a chuckle, "Oh, I'm sure you did. From the look of things those fools looked friendly enough to let you leave unharmed. Might have even given you the box if you asked nicely enough."

Sydney rolled her eyes, "Well then, why did you do it? The last time I looked you weren't working for the CIA."

"No reason especially." He answered coolly, "You were going to get yourself killed standing there like a goose, and as I said earlier I enjoyed our romps."

He stepped out into the hallway, looking both ways and listening intently. Looking satisfied he finally said, "Coast is clear." Sydney stepped out as well but said nothing.

"What, don't I even get a thank you?" Sark smirked.

"In your dreams Sark." She spat out.

He shrugged again, a quaint habit of his that he seemed to use often when he had no wish to use words. "Then that's where I suppose it will remain." he quipped. He made as if to go his own way, when he suddenly turned around.

"Oh, don't think about following me Sydney. I may have just saved your life, but that won't stop me from killing you if you happen to get in my way. Do yourself a favor and let this," he tapped the bag smugly, "go. It's worth nothing to you anyway."

Sydney frowned. Sark thought she was just going to let him walk away? Not her. She wrinkled her forehead thinking, if she pushed Sark he would kill her. She had to make her presence valuable, so that he would allow her to stay with him for the moment being, and then take the box at the soonest possible moment. Silently she began to follow, keeping good distance between herself and the target. More than once Sark looked behind him, and Sydney ducked behind the closest cover she could find, holding her breath until the danger was no threat. A few minutes passed in this way, as Sark cautiously made his way through the building. Finally he stopped, and he turned slowly, pointing his weapon in Sydney's direction where she hid behind a desk.

"Sydney." came his voice, almost patronizing, "I told you not to follow me. You're really pushing your luck you know?"

She sighed, knowing the game was up. Standing up with her hands up she glared at the man Will Tippin had christened the 'cocky English brat'. Looking every bit the 'brat' he cocked his head once more in that disconcerting way, seeming more like a bird viewing its prey than human. Sydney looked at him in disgust.

"If I tied you," he said, almost to himself, "It would solve this problem, but I doubt you'd get out alive."

"You underestimate me." she smirked.

A crash sounded in the other room, as voices came near. Sark glanced up sharply, and seeing no other option open to him, leapt behind the desk. Before Sydney could do anything more he had pulled her down, so that the desk hid her as well, his hand once again covering her mouth securely. Bringing his finger to his lip he motioned for her to be silent, and slowly removed the other hand.

Sydney's eyes widened, as his fingers crept towards the pistol beside him, fearing that he might shoot her to make good his own escape. Luckily for her however, the man seemed to have lost all interest in her. Latching onto the weapon expertly, he threw himself into the open, opening fire on three guards.

The first fell with one bullet, the other however, reacted while Sark was thus occupied. Punching him with a well aimed blow, he threw himself on top of Sark, as both fell to the ground struggling. Sydney stood up from her hiding place, viewing the action. The third guard was in the action of pulling out his own pistol, when Sydney saw what was happening. Whipping out her own piece, she shot the third guard, and he fell heavily to the ground. Suddenly, a sickening crack was heard, as Sark broke the neck of his assailant.

He stood up, breathing deeply from the struggle, and looked at Sydney curiously. He looked at the body, then to Sydney again.

"I don't suppose it would do any good to ask why you did that." He said, giving a soft chuckle but looking curious all the same.

"I don't like owing people." She said, coldly shoving by him.

"I would say thank you, but I doubt you'd accept." Sark said as Sydney kept walking. Sure he was a murderer and a thug at best, but something told her that she shouldn't let him die. Honor perhaps, or common decency. That's why she did it, but he wouldn't understand. The concept of decency was completely alien to a person like Sark.

"Sydney." He called. She rolled her eyes and turned around, "What?" she barked.

He grinned that insufferable grin hearing her harsh tone, "You were good back there you know that?"

"Look. I've got better things to do then listen to your half-thought out compliments." She countered, allowing her weapon hand to fall into a resting position, other hand on hip. She gazed into his face and he returned the stare. Thinking that she might have finally quieted him, she turned once more to leave.

"I have a proposition I think you'll be interested in." He suddenly let out, reading her intently to see her reaction.

"Not interested." She replied without looking back.

"You'll never make it out alone." He said as if he was a mere observer and not in danger himself. Sydney wheeled around fiercely, was he questioning her survival skills? "Not the way you're going at least." He smirked, seeing that he had her where he wanted. "I know a different way, and if we work together, we'll have a better chance of making it out alive."

Sydney raised an eyebrow, "So you're proposing a-"

"Truce." He interrupted, "Yes. Of sorts. Until we get outside at least."

Sydney weighed her options. The entire building was alerted to their presence. The original route that Jack had given her was nearly useless. Sark had an uncanny ability to get in and out of places with ease, it was possible that his route might be useful. But why was he offering to help her? Surely he could escape by himself easily.

"How do I know you're not going to turn me in to save your own skin?" She questioned.

"Sydney," He said in that condescending manner, "I hardly have 'friends' here. If I did, I would ask for what I want and probably get it."

She thought for a moment. This might be her only chance, but she'd have to keep an eye on him. "Fine." She finally said, "Deal."

He grinned with pleasure that she had accepted. "Grand." was all that he said. Turning he motioned for her to follow him.

She sighed. This was not a good idea.


End file.
